The Commute
by Linen Tartaruga
Summary: He was reminded of a folk story he’d heard long ago: The Sun and the North Wind or was it the South Wind? had bet each other they could remove a man’s coat.


**Title: The Commute**  
**Characters: **Roy, Al, and Ed.  
**Summary: **He was reminded of a folk story he'd heard long ago: The Sun and the North Wind (or was it the South Wind?) had bet each other they could remove a man's coat. Roy/Ed/Al.  
**Disclaimer: **If I owned FullMetal Alchemist, then I wouldn't be poor, and this wouldn't be fanfic.  
**Rating:** G  
**Warnings:** Vague shounen ai, implied threesomeness, no spoilers.

* * *

A blast of freezing cold wind forced Roy to tug his coat closer around him, flipping up the collar to better protect his ears as he gauged the distance until he was home. 

He was reminded of a folk story he'd heard long ago: The Sun and the North Wind (or was it the South Wind?) had bet each other they could remove a man's coat. The North Wind (South Wind?) kept blowing and blowing at the man, making him even colder and just making him more inclined to make sure it stayed on, much like how Roy felt at that moment. But the sun then came out and shone as brightly as he could, making the man hotter and hotter until he finally couldn't keep his coat on anymore and he took it off.

Roy _really _wished this was what was going on and that he was nearing the end of the Wind's attempt to get him to take off his coat. And scarf. And gloves. And earmuffs and hat.

He hated the winter. He _really_ hated the winter. It was cold, and it was uncomfortable; you could barely move in all of the clothes you had to bundle up in and, whenever some sort of precipitation fell from the sky, it was either ice or snow and _neither_ were conducive to movement outside of the comfort of your own home.

The only thing he had to look forward to in the coming weeks was the hopeful end of this godforsaken freezing frigid weather. In another month or so, it would warm up and the sun would be, not only shining, but actually sending some _warmth_ to the city. That was the time of year that Roy preferred -- springtime -- when the snow melted and it was just warm enough that you might need a jacket in the morning but, by afternoon, you were unbuttoning the top button of your shirt and rolling up your sleeves.

He remembered back to last year; it had been unusually warm that year, so he generally hadn't even _needed_ a jacket in the mornings. There hadn't been any snow on the ground, no ice, no need for heavy jackets and gloves and scarves and earmuffs.

Another gust of wind sent Roy's hat flying and he sighed as he turned to recapture it. He was, luckily, only a few blocks away from home and he forced himself to keep going, hoping to get at least _some _relief from the cold.

It was the longest ten minutes of his life, he was sure, and he swore he was going to somehow get Havoc to drive him for the rest of the season. There was absolutely _no_ way he was going to go through this for another _month_.

The frozen air bit at his hands as he finally made his way up his stoop, pulling off his glove so he could locate his keys in his pocket. It proved unnecessary, however, as the door magically opened before him before he'd even gotten the key in his lock, and he stared at the young blonde standing in the doorway and his expression _must_ have been like a starving man being presented a five-pound steak because the blonde laughed at him and just shook that blonde head before grabbing the man's hand and pulling him inside.

Oh, but the warmth was like _heaven_ and, if he believed in such a thing, or that he might actually end up there, he might have believed he'd frozen to death in the street on his way home. But, no, you weren't supposed to feel _anything _when you died, right? So he was still alive then, just away from the freezing cold outside.

He wanted to protest as the blonde began removing his arctic gear, but his words were ignored and, soon, he found himself in just his dress shirt and trousers and being tugged into the living room, where a fire had been built and a thick down blanket lay discarded, indicating the spot the blonde had vacated. Sounds from the kitchen told him the older blonde was there as well; they must have been sitting together in front of the fire. Roy almost felt bad for disturbing them.

"Roy, you're freezing!" the younger exclaimed, taking the man's hands and trying to rub the feeling back into them. "Come sit down by the fire, and we'll get you some hot cocoa."

This he didn't protest, easily allowing himself to be sat down in front of the fire and wrapped up in the already warm blanket and, once again he had to wonder if he hadn't frozen on his way home.

There was a light pressure of lips against his cheek and then the soft sound of footsteps heading for the kitchen. Roy curled a leg under him and rested his cheek on his other knee and listened to the sounds coming from the kitchen. The occasional clang of a pot, the sound of the refrigerator opening. Someone turned on the gas stove as the other turned on the sink. Then they started squabbling. Roy grinned to himself. He couldn't catch all of it (they must have been trying to be quiet for his sake), but he could imagine what it was about; the brothers always fought when it came to anything that resembled cooking. The older wouldn't want to use milk, while the younger claimed that it made the cocoa richer and he and Roy liked it that way anyway, and they would clash heads until they decided to make Ed's separately.

The conflict would last about seven minutes and Roy couldn't help but smile that he even knew the boys so well. He really could have been perfectly content just listening to them interact while he was curled up by the fire, but when he was presented with a steaming mug and two warm bodies trying to snuggle up as closely as possible to his sides, he didn't object in the least.

They sat there until the fire died and the two blondes' eyelids began to droop, and Roy ushered them up to bed, dragging the down blanket with them. As they wrapped around each other in bed, all a jumble of soft blankets and warm bodies, Roy couldn't help but think that, maybe, Spring could take its time in coming if he got to come home to _this_ every night.

_-End_


End file.
